


Caring Too Much--The Hardison is Not Gonna Die Today Job

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: Caring, Drama, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 11:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: Not today, folks. Not today. Or any time in the future, if it was up to Hardison.  Takes place during season four, The Grave Danger Job.





	Caring Too Much--The Hardison is Not Gonna Die Today Job

Caring Too Much--The Hardison is Not Gonna Die Today Job

Takes place season four during The Grave Danger Job

 

Nate:

Nate gasped for breath, arms flailing, attempting to stop whatever was making him suffocate.  It felt the same as when Sam died, lying on that cold table, lines hooked up to him, monitors blaring, indicating that he was dying. Nate remembered screaming for help, for someone to realize that this was his son dying on that table.  If he just hugged his son one more time, then he’d wake up, smile up at him.  It felt the same when they lowered that coffin into the ground, piled dirt on top of it. He collapsed into himself, falling on the ground, so drunk from downing as much alcohol as possible before he had to go to his only son’s funeral.  He couldn’t breathe, the tie hanging loosely around his neck still strangling him like a noose. Sam had died a few days before. And it was entirely his fault.

Struggling to sit up in bed, he finally was able to roll until his knees hit the hard floor. There was no coffin, no hospital bed, only the hard ground at the side of his lonely bed.  He hadn’t shut the blinds in his bedroom before collapsing from his latest binge, moon shining outside brightly, too brightly.  How was he supposed to react?  Hardison had almost died that day. And it was entirely his fault.

He could take a punch, many in fact.  One lucky punch and he was out for the count. His head still ached, which probably meant he had a concussion. Drinking himself into oblivion didn’t help matters.  Was he dizzy because the lack of oxygen or the nightmare he had awoken from?  Hardison had almost died that day. And it was entirely his fault.

His stomach pitched and rolled, threatening to lose its contents as he attempted to stop the shakes that had occurred as he crashed to the floor.  His knees ached where he had hit the ground hard.  The grass, the dirt that his knees had hit almost six years ago had cushioned his fall. He wished, he really wished he could have just fallen over into that grave and never woke up.  Only that didn’t happen.  Too many people. They all looked on at him in pity.  Sam had died a few days before. And it was entirely his fault.

The con, this con, had gotten a bit out of hand.  Too many players. And those players proved to be violent.  Drug cartels would do that to you at a moment’s notice.  They didn’t care about the fact that you were running a con on their source of identities.  They just cared about smuggling, whether it be human or drugs.  You were collateral damage.  Guns, kidnapping, blackmail.  That was par for the course.  He knew, knew that their jobs could sometimes be dangerous.  Every protection had been taken, until it wasn’t.  One punch. That’s all it took. He was getting too old for this shit.  Hardison had almost died that day. And it was entirely his own fucking fault.

 

Sophie:

How do you tell someone that you were sorry?  To experience being buried alive to make a point? To be used, dismissed because he was in the middle of a con gone wrong?  Hardison knew the risks. They all knew the risks. Having been shot at on occasion, Sophie most certainly knew the risks of working with this crew.  Hell, she had died several times, all pretend mind you, but that bomb was meant for her. Risks were risks, until they turned deadly.

They didn’t deal with criminals like this.  They usually dealt with white collar criminals, ones that didn’t usually carry guns. Only they did carry guns, shooting up warehouses (yes, she wanted to tell Eliot, she knew about the warehouse), injuring friends, family that hadn’t learned how to duck. Putting themselves in harm’s way was part of the job.  Sophie knew the risks of working with this crew.

It always on her, to figure out the mark’s emotions.  Whether it was almost getting blown up or shot at, she knew that she’d take that bullet for the younger members of the team if it all went wrong.  She’d pull them out of the fire. Eliot wasn’t the only person who would sacrifice on this crew. Nate always thought that he should sacrifice for this crew. She knew the risks of working with this crew.

Wrapping her arms around her legs, Sophie finally was able to slow her breathing, using techniques she had learned in one of her yoga classes.  At least the class was good for something. She didn’t want one of them to find her passed out on the floor from lack of oxygen.  She knew the risks of working with this crew.

As the tears started to roll down her face, she really wished she had insisted that they stay together a bit longer that evening, if just to hash out what had transpired, or just watch a movie.  No one had said much after coming back to Nate’s place.  After a few words passed between all of them, they had scattered to their neutral corners, Nate grabbing a bottle as soon as they turned to leave.  Emotions were never any of their strong suits, especially with their repressed mastermind taking the lead.  She really knew the risks of working with this crew.

Screw it, she thought as she shakily raised herself from the floor. She couldn’t take just sitting in self-pity on the cold floor of her bedroom.  Sophie somehow wanted to pull them all together, just like she’d done a few years before, that first time they’d seen each other in Boston.  She’d done that, selfishly, but she’d made an excuse to see all of them once again.  It didn’t take long for the four of them to pull her back in, just as it hadn’t taken that long that first year for her to realize that she couldn’t live without them. She, Sophie Devereaux, knew the risks of working with this crew.

She would damn well pull them back together again, emotions be damned.

 

Eliot:

Shit, shit. He messed up. He should have never. No, he would never, ever do what he did on this con ever again. It should have been him, not Hardison in that coffin. He took the hits. He suffered the consequences.  Hardison might grump about being the damsel in distress on this one.  But it was Eliot that screwed up. People died when he screwed up.

He should have known when a drug cartel got involved that they should have stepped back to reassess. Many times, he had gone along with one of Nate’s plans to be surprised by a level of violence that Eliot couldn’t control.  It wasn’t just identity theft. These guys played for real, for keeps. It didn’t matter who got in the way. He had dealt with guys like this, whether they were drug cartel or gun runners or even military.  He screwed up. People died when he screwed up.

As he heard Hardison’s voice, scared out of his mind, not knowing where he was and how to get to him in time, Eliot thought that this was it, this was the screw up that would end it all.  The time limit was very real and had come so fast that he thought they wouldn’t make it.  Those guns had almost ended their search.  He’d have to congratulate Nate later for that tackle and chastise him for almost getting shot, again. Eliot knew he screwed up.  People died when he screwed up.

The cold from the bare floor seeped into his bones. There would be no sleeping that night. Maybe once the sun rose again, and he knew that all was well and safe, he’d lay down once he was exhausted.  It was just the inevitable delay, knowing that a nightmare would appear sooner than later.  He wouldn’t be fast enough, friends would die. Just as it had happened years ago, it had almost happened that very afternoon.  He hadn’t been fast enough, smart enough, to prevent this from happening. None of his scenarios, none of Nate’s scenarios, could have predicted Hardison being kidnapped. He fucking screwed up big time. People died when he screwed up.

As he hugged Hardison hard against him, feeling the man breathing in and out, it had been one of the sweetest feelings he had ever experienced.  Circumstances hadn’t ended all that sweet years before, as he watched buddies die on the battlefield.  No more battles. That’s what he kept telling himself.  He didn’t want to fight any more battles.  That’s why he hated guns.  He screwed up again, big time.  People died when he screwed up.

Never again.

 

Parker:

She couldn’t touch him.  Parker watched as everyone else hugged Hardison tight, letting him know that they cared about what had happened to him.  Parker cared.  Yes, Parker cared so much that every scream, every tear she now shed made her shake.  Feelings. Too many feelings.  She didn’t know how to process all the feelings that were eating away at her bones, her brain. Parker cared. Parker cared too much.

She could still hear his sobs that racked Hardison’s body as he lay in that coffin.  To wake up in that circumstance could ruin him for life.  Yes, Hardison had lived through some really tough times.  He had gone from one foster home to another, but even then, from what she could tell, he never lost hope.  She had lost hope too many times to count.  With the other three surrounding her, she couldn’t lose hope on this one.  Parker cared.  She cared way too much.

She was there for him when he needed her.  More and more, she was there for all of them, even if it seemed awkward, halting. Even if she didn’t know the right gesture or the right thing to say, she wanted to try for them, for all of them, just not Hardison, although he was starting to hold a special place in her heart that the others couldn’t touch.  Now Parker was starting to care way too much.

Breathing was easy, she had told him.  But what if they had been too late?  What if the goons had buried him too deep?  There were always what ifs in their line of work. She didn’t always dwell on them. That was Nate’s job. More and more, the what ifs crowded her brain, making her realize that the what ifs could make all the difference in the world.  If she could strategize for the what ifs that could come about during a job, then her plans would look more like Nate’s.  She was starting to understand what he was thinking and feeling, yes feeling, because Nate felt way deeper than most people.  He just didn’t show it, just like her.  If you showed people that you cared too much, then it could ruin everything.  Now she was in too deep, cared too deeply for this ragtag group of con artists, grifters, thieves and hitters. Caring wasn’t supposed to feel this way, like her heart was almost ripped out of her chest. 

Was that what made her more human now?  Now that she could care about the people around her?  Sophie would call it progress.  Parker, a few years ago, would call it a mistake.  Care too much and you die.  But if you didn’t care enough, then you would die alone.  She didn’t want to die alone, just like she didn’t want Hardison to feel that either.  This was not what she wanted when she joined this crew.  It was too late now. She cared too deeply, too much.

Even though the tears flowed and her epiphany that caring was an advantage, she still wanted to take baby steps.  Luckily Hardison was in it for the long haul.  Parker cared. And she’d never forget that.

 

Hardison

Hardison couldn’t sleep.  Whether it was adrenaline or the fear of the nightmares to come, he really didn’t feel that lying down on his pillow would be in his best interests.  He’d have to sleep sometime, but now was not it.  Dying was also not in the cards. Not today. Not today.

He’d never look at silky material the same way again. It had cocooned him in that coffin. Coffins shouldn’t be comfortable. People were dead in those things.  He wasn’t dead though. Because of his friends, his family, he could sit right in front of these computers, typing away, researching the next job. Not today, folks. Not today.

They weren’t exactly a touchy-feely bunch of people, but as they pulled him from the ground, each one of them showed him earlier that day how much they cared.  It meant something. It meant the world to him. That’s all he had ever wanted, a place to belong, with people who understood him.  The fact that Parker did not hug him, well it didn’t bother him one bit.  He knew she was overwhelmed. He knew that she cared deeply about him and was still processing. Hell, he still needed to process. But not today.  Really, not today.

He’d have to tell Nate later that the creak at the top of the stairs probably needed to be fixed. Well, maybe not since it always gave him a few seconds to either close a window on the computer (Nate did not need to know exactly how he found the info that he found on the internet) or he could straighten up his papers, making it look like he was working instead of playing some game.  Now, right then and now, Hardison really did not care what Nate saw.  Not today.  He really didn’t care. Not today.

“You know, you don’t need…,” Nate started to say as he made it to the bottom of the stairs.

“Can’t sleep,” Hardison quietly announced.

“Yeah. I, uh, I understand.”

“You know Nate, I knew, I knew in the back of my mind that y’all were gonna find me.  It’s not your fault.”

He watched Nate’s expression change, from sympathetic and careful to angry in a millisecond.  He’d seen that expression many times, usually when a job went wrong, sometimes when someone screwed up, but mostly when Nate really wanted the mark to go down. It was that scary look, the one where Hardison was glad he wasn’t on the other side of the job.

“But it is my fault, Hardison. Every single time…”

“We all know the risks, Nate. We all know that something could happen.”

When the hell had Sophie showed up?  He hadn’t heard the door open and close. Hardison thought that maybe he should put one of those door chimes on the front door just so he could tell when people entered and exited as he buried his head in the research.

“I screwed up. I should have known.  It’s my job to protect all of you, from crap like this.”

And this was what he was talking about. Now Eliot was there, looking all pissed off.  Hardison wondered if it was going to be directed at him or Nate on this one. 

“But it’s my job to figure all of this out,” Nate intervened. 

“And if I had realized how violent they were gonna be, I could have prevented those goons from attacking you.”

“No, wait, you two.  I should have realized that Darlene was in deep with those guys and to pull all of you back, so that we could regroup.”

So they all thought they were responsible for what had happened to him. 

“You all care too much,” Hardison heard behind him.

“How did she?”

“When did Parker come into the room?”

“Parker, of course we all care about what happens to the others. We’re a team.”

“We’re family,” Parker finished Sophie’s statement.

Even with bullets flying, goons punching, they all had his back, just like he would do if the same thing were to happen to any one of them.

“We are never taking a job anywhere near a funeral home ever again.  And I don’t want to ever get near silk again. Gives me the creeps.”

“Hardison, whatever that cheap stuff was that Darlene used in those coffins,” Sophie started to point out.

“Nah. Nope. Not gonna happen.”

Eliot smiled a little at his statement.

“Good, because I usually wear cotton,” Parker announced as she leaned up against his workstation.

“You know you set yourself up for that one,” Eliot cracked up, directing his point to Hardison.

“Too much information,” Nate chastised the younger members of the group.

“Oh please, Nate. Really?”

Hardison could see Nate’s eyes widen at what Sophie had just said.

“And?” Hardison asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I have no idea what Sophie is referring to.”

Even though the lights were turned down low, he could see a tinge of pink on Nate’s ears and neck.

“Well, I do.  Sophie’s knickers are very soft.  That’s what you call them, right?”

So now it was more business as usual, with Parker and her antics. Sophie snickered at Parker, while Nate just stood there with a perplexed look on his face.

“I am not even gonna ask how you know that,” Eliot said as he started for the kitchen.

“Snack time,” Parker called out as she followed him.

“Hey, I’m hungry. Fix me something.”

“Oh I’m gonna fix you something alright. You people are so damn lazy,” Eliot answered back.


End file.
